


Hogwarts After Midnight

by LoekVanStelling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cliffhangers, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Pining, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, University, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29829342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoekVanStelling/pseuds/LoekVanStelling
Summary: After Cedric told him about the prefects’ bathroom, Harry started visiting the place more often. There was something about the place that relaxed him if he was having nightmares, and so he would come here under the cover of invisibility cloak, after midnight. One night, he meets Severus Snape there and the event changes the course of their relationship.***The story takes place by the end of GOF and during OOTP and follows the events from the canon (including some canonical deaths) but there is one twist – Hogwarts is actually a university and Harry is 22 in the beginning of the story just to avoid underage issues.***no beta on board  & the author is a non-native speaker  :(
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	1. It's all so incredibly wet

**Author's Note:**

> Dear reader, you are just about to read +2,7k words, only 13 of which are the actual dialogue. The rest of the content is either a description of the characters' actions or their reflections, because I just can't seem to be able to write anything more engaging than long passages on the weather, characters' emotions or the scenery. Moreover, this story is not supposed to be deep; it is a very average #pornwithplot that will involve a lot of unresolved tension and inner struggle. Those who seek sophisticated literature might be dissapointed with this little snarry :)

Harry used to think that there is nothing special about the water just as much as there is nothing special about the air. Both environments required certain skills such as swimming, diving, maintaining balance and strong control over your muscles, and sometimes also equipment such as brooms. Having dealt with that, the rest is pretty easy – you just learn how to breathe and how to move.

After the task in the lake, however, Harry’s understanding of what the water represents expanded. Spending an hour in the hostile habitat taught him a lot about loneliness, confusion and disorientation. Everything was different under the water: the plants, the animals, the merpeople. There was nobody to ask for help, no cities or streets under water that one could find people on; utter helplessness combined with a sense of being watched enhanced the feeling of being alone in an alien territory. The triwizard tournament made Harry associate water with danger, challenge both for one’s mind and body, and fear.

He felt all those emotions whenever he was taking a bath. Lured by the water, he was finding himself increasingly often in the prefects’ bathroom instead of under the regular Gryffindor shower. It was as if he was seeking those feelings again; as if he was trying to conquer something that he hadn’t manage to conquer in the lake, something deep within.

The weirdest thing was that each time, he was leaving the bathroom feeling more relaxed than he was when entering it. Perhaps he learnt to find a certain kind of peace in the familiarity of those emotions, or perhaps the water enhanced them just to the point of Harry being able to let them go. Either way, he started treating the nightmares that he was having as an excuse to leave the Gryffindor dormitory around 1 or 2 a.m. under the cover of his invisibility cloak and head to the prefects’ bathroom.

It was half past 2 a.m. this time that Harry woke up, covered in cold sweat, to the sound of rain hitting the window of his room. The scar was hurting. He took a deep breath and got up, casting silently a drying spell on his bed sheets. He intended to get back to sleep after his relaxation routine.

Walking through the empty corridors and staircases almost without looking – for he knew the path by heart – he was thinking about the final tournament task. He hoped he would be able to use his broom again or at least to take advantage of his quidditch skills in another way. Considering the first two tasks, there was a high chance that the best strategy for the final one should involve wit rather than physical strength. Harry’s knowledge was not large enough to grant him peace of mind; on the other hand, improvisation proved to be one of his most reliant survival skills. Hopefully, he will just figure something out when the time comes.

He glanced at the map in his hand just to make sure no professor was patrolling the floor. He noticed Snape walking nearby the Great Hall, which was relatively far away from his spot, and, having decided that he was safe to go, he entered the bathroom and turned on the tap. He undressed quickly and threw his clothes on the floor next to the small pool that was already magically half-filled with water. He laid his map on top of the pile of his clothes and, as an afterthought, laid his t-shirt on top. That was merely precaution; in this school, nobody ever entered bathrooms so late at night.

In Harry’s mind, there was no such a thing as “too hot water.” Once the mirrors were covered with steam, he closed his eyes and let his body slip below the surface. The sound of the raindrops on the windowpanes mixed with the water dripping from the taps. Little did he know that at this moment, his potions professor chose to enter the bathroom, guided by his hunting instincts.

Severus Snape had cast on himself the invisibility charm tonight in hope of tracking down some misbehaving students. When he noticed the dim light coming from under the doors to the prefects’ bathroom, he was almost sure he would catch the Hufflepuff prefects, who just recently added benefits to their friendship, engaged in exploring each other’s throats with their tongues …or other body parts. The plan was to slip into the bathroom quietly (the Hufflepuffs probably would not even notice the intruder), cancel the charm, reveal himself and watch the students squirm with shame under his gaze.

Unfortunately, his plan failed. There was no other in the bathroom than Harry Potter himself, blissfully lying in the pool with his head leaned against the edge.

Harry opened his eyes slowly and looked at the ceiling. He lifted his hands and run both of them though his hair and face, leaving wet tracks behind. He really was tired – but not because of his disturbed sleep pattern; there was a weight of stress and pressure on his shoulders caused by the certainty that Voldemort was up to something. Part of him felt responsible for the dark wizard’s growing strength. Harry still remembered the strange dream that he had by the end of summer and the sense of terror that just couldn’t leave his mind for the next few weeks.

He sighed and dived under the water again. Snape noticed the worried look on the student’s face; he saw the almost unnoticeably trembling hands and the dark shadows under his eyes. Perhaps it was this sight that caused him maintain the invisibility charm. Snape was not sure whether an image of a Potter that cared to the point of insomnia made any impression on him. Nevertheless, he stood there, not making any move or sound. He was staring at Potter dwelling in whatever thoughts the student might have been torturing himself with.

None of them knew how much time had passed since they got here. The skin on Harry’s fingers started pruning and the water was already cooling down, causing the boy shiver slightly. He eventually gathered himself to stop analyzing the wall and he stood up, looking around in search for a towel. His eyes landed on the Marauder’s map for split of a second and he noticed with the corner of his eye that he was not alone in the bathroom anymore.

Well, that was the first time it ever happened. Deciding quickly not to let the visitor know that he was aware of their presence until he manages to check who that visitor was, Harry nonchalantly got out of the pool, grabbed the towel and started drying his hair with it. The fabric managed to hide his face just enough for Harry to be convinced nobody could see which direction he was looking at. He felt relief when he realized that the precious map only barely stuck out from under his t-shirt. He bent down to pick his clothes with one hand, reached for the wand with the other at the same time and, tapping the map imperceptibly, whispered “mischief managed” so silently that he couldn’t even hear his own voice.

He wanted to leave the bathroom. There was just one little problem – a professor was standing right between himself and the door. A thousand thoughts ran through Harry’s mind simultaneously. He could not possibly reach the door without either bumping into Snape or letting him know that he was aware of his presence; there was no alternative escape route other than through that door. He could not see nor hear Snape and it meant that the older wizard was disguised. Harry did behave ordinarily and he was sure Snape did not know that Harry was aware of his presence. For at least last ten minutes, nobody entered the door; nobody apparated either – Harry did not hear any sound. Finally he realized that, if Snape hadn’t reacted so far to a student wandering around places he should not be wandering about after curfew, he just might not have wanted to confront Harry for whatever reason. Snape had not made any move or sound for quite a lot of time and it seemed as if he, too, did not want to be discovered by the other. Was there any chance then for Harry to slip out of there without repercussions?

If neither of them wanted to admit being aware of the other, perhaps Harry would be able to dress up and leave the bathroom, at the same time granting Snape enough time to move out of the way. It seemed like an easy solution and Harry almost started congratulating himself on his strategy when he realized that there was a small detail he hadn’t considered before: for the whole time that Snape was standing there, he both watched Harry and did not intend to let Harry know that. Why on earth would he do that?

A completely new sensation hit Harry at that moment. He realized that as he was taking a bath, he was being observed by his professor and that realization made him shiver for a reason completely different than the cold air surrounding his naked skin. He just felt slightly… aroused.

Sever Snape did not understand his own reasons for standing there as if hit by petrificul totalus. He was looking at his naked student and he was mesmerized by what he was looking at – each movement of Potter’s arms, the drops of water dripping from his wet hair, the skin glistening in the dim light. He saw Potter stand up and turn away from him and yet Severus did not take advantage of the short time while Potter was picking up his clothes and did not leave. He still stood there, watching as goosebumps appeared on Potter’s skin and he saw Potter’s cock begin to stiffen and still, he did not leave. It was inappropriate for so many reasons and yet, all Snape found himself able to do, was to fix his gaze at Potter’s cock and keep looking as the boy reluctantly touched himself, looked down and blushed.

Severus was shocked to discover that he actually felt disappointment when Potter’s hand dropped and the boy pulled on his t-shirt. Then, he felt appalled by the fact that he had apparently enjoyed looking at Potter’s naked body. Severus was no angel and in his career as a Death Eater, he committed more dark deeds than he could recall; never before did he feel the way he did now, however, as he found himself captivated by the image of a younger man, let alone his student.

Harry was no longer cold. For some strange reason, he was excited and the feeling did not go away when he tried to distract himself and focus on dressing up instead. The sense of being stared at combined with intimacy and perhaps even vulnerability made his heart beat faster and after half a minute of futile inner struggle, he gave in. He took his cock in his hand again and started stroking it slowly, partially hoping that he had been mistaken when he thought he noticed Snape’s name on the map and that in fact, he was in the bathroom alone. The other part of him was even more stimulated at the prospect of masturbating while another man was watching. The fact that this man happened to be the professor he liked the least was disturbing for Harry at first but a while after, he found it strangely arousing.

His movements became faster and his cock harder; Harry closed his eyes and leaned against the cold washbasin behind him. He did not even need to think about anything in particular to help himself out; the situation itself was thrilling enough. He could imagine Snape’s wide eyes and the astonished look on his face. He was intensely aware of the fact that tomorrow in the morning, he was going to regret it but right now, all he wanted to do was to yank harder and faster until he would cum.

He felt precum at the tip of his cock and he moaned involuntarily as his slick fingers made his erection even harder. He knew he did not need much time finish and at the same time, he did not want to cum just yet. He would welcome the opportunity of prolonging his pleasure if that was possible. He forced himself to release his grip and took a deep breath before continuing.

He started playing with his nipples with one hand, stroking his stomach and torso with the other when he suddenly felt hot, wet sensation around his cock. The feeling was unmistakable – his cock just started penetrating another person’s mouth. Harry moaned again. Only a few second later did he realize whose mouth that was.

Severus could not believe what he was doing. Having ignored all his reservations and the risk of being discovered, he approached Potter, kneeled down and, thinking that he was losing his mind, licked Potter’s hard shaft. The smell of precum invaded his nostrils when he opened his mouth wider and took his student’s pulsing erection in his mouth; the boy’s cock was hot and heavy, and if Snape was honest with himself, he loved the taste of it. He took it deeper in his mouth, letting his tongue run along the underside, and withdrew slowly just to repeat the action again, and again, and again.

He could hear Potter gasping and he could feel the growing sense of guilt in his chest at the same time. He should stop whatever he thought he was doing right now; he swallowed Potter’s cock instead. He knew his own dick was insanely hard at this point and he was just about to start stroking himself when he heard his student’s whisper.

“Show yourself to me,” managed to utter Potter and the last word he said turned into a moan. “I… I want to see you do that,” he added with desperation in his voice.

When Snape heard the words, he immediately withdrew, as if finally regaining self-control. He was definitely not going to turn this… situation… into a more personal interaction than it already was. Stepping back, he shook his head with shock as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. He left the bathroom quickly, without looking back, and took the shortcut to his chambers.

“Fuck,” cursed Harry with frustration when he saw the door open and heard his professor’s steps fading out. He realized that he just crossed the line and asked for more than he could have, and he hated himself for this impulsive miscalculation.

He gathered his things lying around and dressed up, deliberately ignoring his erection. Severus Snape was nowhere to be seen on the Marauder’s map; Harry suspected the professor’s wards over his chambers were stronger than the map’s nearly-omniscience. There was nothing he could do to reverse the course of action now – Snape left for good and…

…and the following day would bring Harry a lot of difficult feelings such as humiliation or self-disgust, he was sure of that. Not wanting to make it worse, he did not allow himself the release and decided to just go back to sleep. Much as he did not dare to admit it to himself, partially he knew that his own hand would not replace the wet hotness he had been feeling over his cock a few minutes ago and that thought stung his Gryffindor pride mercilessly. Just how ironic was that, the idea that his own touch was no match for the most revolting, nasty and unfuckable teacher’s mouth.

He reached his dormitory half-asleep and immediately passed out as his cheek met the pillow. He was not aware of the fact that deep in the dungeons, Severus Snape was sitting in his armchair, trying to make sense of the decisions he had made during the night. Perhaps for the first time since he became a death eater or even way before that, he actually felt a tiny scrap of something deeper, something that evoked sensations beyond the physical spectrum, and Severus did not want to fall asleep tonight, both intrigued and disturbed by what he had come across within himself in the prefects’ bathroom.


	2. The Boy Who Learnt to Read

When Harry woke up the next day, it was already quite late and he didn’t have time for self-loathing. In fact, it was so late that if he went to the Great Hall for breakfast, he would be late for classes, so he asked Dobby for help instead.

It was only when he was casting the cleaning spell on himself that he realized he still had the erection from the last night. He deeply regretted that he didn’t know any charms useful in that kind of situation; perhaps Hermione would be able suggest him something.

No, wait, that was a horrible idea. Definitely not going to ask Hermione for help. He’s going to have to do the research alone, preferably with nobody else in sight. For now, he will just suck it up and ignore the bulge in his pants, hoping it will fade away after receiving no attention.

Having pulled on his oversize school robes, Harry left the Gryffindor tower and rushed out to transfiguration classes, devouring the sandwich that Dobby had made him on his way.

“Why didn’t you eat breakfast?” whispered Ron to him, when Harry occupied the seat next to his friend.

“Unlike your world, mine doesn’t revolve around food,” answered Harry in equally low voice.

“Geez, mate…” started Ron with a confused face expression. His eyes opened wider and he seemed to have no idea what else to say.

“Was it the nightmares again, Harry?” asked Hermione with a mother-like concern visible in her eyes.

Harry set about organizing his workbooks on the desk, trying to come up with an answer that would trigger no further curiosity from his friends’ side.

“It’s swollen, Harry. Are you in pain? Perhaps you should go see madam Pomfrey…” continued Hermione.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about that,” cut Harry.

It was not the scar that was painful right now and he did have another swollen part of his body that he chose to ignore for the time being as doggedly as he was ignoring his forehead. Eventually, he managed to get rid of the problem, focusing all his attention on the lecture given by McGonnagall, and somehow made it through the first two hours of classes.

Things were going really smooth until noon when, after the lunch break, potions classes started. Harry was experiencing a mild case of anxiety while stepping down the staircase leading to the dungeons; he was grateful to both Hermione and Ron for distracting him with their lively conversation about the triwizard tournament. Ron liked the competitive and entertaining aspects of it, while Hermione was criticizing the Ministry’s irresponsible decision to bring the tournament back and pointed out that solely the fact that the goblet spat out Harry’s name only proved how bad the idea was in the first place.

They managed to sit in the back of the classroom. When Snape finished writing the ingredients on the board and turned towards the students, he made sure not to look in the direction of the Gryffindors. He was going to devote himself to torturing Longbottom tonight... today, he meant today. The fact that he didn’t sleep last night should have no impact on his teaching abilities /today/, Severus repeated to himself with emphasis.

Harry was determined not to look at his professor at all for the whole week, if not the rest of the year. He studied the cauldron, the flasks of ingredients, even the stupid cutting board, anything really just not to look at Snape’s black robes as the teacher was walking around the classroom and commenting on all the wrong techniques of the students.

All students, apart from Harry. The Golden Boy’s brewing skills have not improved at all, yet he knew very well that Snape’s lack of attention was not a compliment. It seemed that the professor avoided any interaction with him, and if Harry was honest with himself, he did not really mind.

Or perhaps he did. After all, Snape didn’t know that Harry knew that it was Snape under the invisibility charm last night. And while Harry was trying to deal with all those horrible implications that arose from the situation – the feelings of repulsion combined with curiosity, his body’s overreaction when Snape was around, the ethical issues of their inappropriate behavior last night – Snape only had one thing to worry about: he had blown a student and who knows, maybe that’s what Snape does, sucking various dicks at night.

Harry really did not want that thought to occur to him. He did not want to wonder whether Snape had done it with any other Hogwarts student; he did not want to think about Snape in the context of sex at all. And yet, it was all he was doing since the lesson began. Anyway, all Harry wanted to point out was that it was not quite fair, the fact that he was aware that it was Snape that had knelt down in front of him yesterday and took his member into his mouth (Harry still had shivers thinking about how disgust combined with need clouded his vision), while Snape remained oblivious. And his Gryffindor sense of justice was not okay with it.

Severus, on the other hand, did not intend to either reveal himself to Harry or admit to himself that he enjoyed last night’s encounter. He resolved to put all his complex nature and cunning skills into manipulating himself into a kind of denial even he would never be able to see through. Nobody witnessed him last night; there was no risk of any repercussions.

Having insulted Longbottom for stirring the cauldron in the wrong direction and achieved a look of terror on the Gryffindor’s face, Snape felt self-confident again and decided to test his willpower. He let his judgmental, despising gaze roll over from Longbottom, directed it first at Weasley and after that, at Potter.

It turned out to be a mistake, as Harry chose the same moment to dare to look at Snape and their eyes met for the first time. A rush of adrenaline filled Harry’s veins and he felt so exposed, so small and so… turned on by the teacher’s stare. It was going in a totally wrong direction and Harry withdrew, cursing in his mind at his cowardly retreat. For the rest of the class, he didn’t look up.

Snape was horrified to notice a very faint, hardly visible tint of blush on Potter’s cheeks as the boy lowered his eyes. Impossible. Apart from always finding a way to happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, Potter did not have any magical powers so he could not possibly know… Maybe there was a completely different reason, maybe Potter was trying to hide the fact that he was… up to something. In that case, Snape had a very legitimate reason to observe the boy on the lookout for potential troubles.

***

The rest of the day passed with no surprises and in the evening, Harry obediently lay on his bed and waited until his roommates fell asleep. His mind was filled with dilemmas and unanswered questions. The final triwizard task was going to happen the day after tomorrow and Harry didn’t feel any wiser than he had been before the event started. Hermione had gathered information on the past triwizard tournaments to assess the statistical probability of particular tasks to occur; still, her findings were not conclusive. Harry eventually started suspecting that hence the dragons represented a combination of the air and the fire and the second task happened under water, the final one should test one’s ability to conquer the earth.

At the same time, Harry was trying to prevent certain thoughts from surfacing. He did not want his mind to go back to the previous night and replay the disgraceful situation; he did not want to think about the sensation of the wet, warm lips tightly surrounding his cock at the base, the hard palate he could feel with the tip of his member and the surprisingly elastic, fast tongue performing impossible movements on his foreskin. Unfortunately, the sensation was too real and the fact that he could not see Snape only enhanced his sense of touch. Right now, the darkness surrounding him made the memory vivid again.

Perhaps he felt it so intensely only because he had never done it before. When it comes to romantic stuff, Harry’s experience was painfully unimpressive. One thing he was sure of was that he had a tendency to fancy blokes; he started noticing Cedric already at the quidditch match in the summer. A part of him wished he would come across the Hufflepuff in the prefects’ bathroom, but it never happened. What was he going to do in that case scenario anyway? Whenever they were talking, Cedric looked at him in such a platonic way that Harry never dared to make any move.

It still made sense though – both avid quidditch fans, athletic and muscular, competitive and resourceful. They would make such a good pair; too bad Cedric seemed to be more interested in Cho. Harry felt so… normal, fancying a guy like Cedric. It was almost as if he was fancying his own mirror reflection, as if they were vibrating on the same wavelength. They shared interests and beliefs, they both valued friendship above all else, they were both playing fair at all times.

Cedric was the absolute opposite of Snape and Harry could not comprehend how on earth he was able to feel desire that was so strong that, beyond all reason, he asked the professor to reveal himself. His teacher was a biased loner that never missed a chance to add insult to injury; not to mention the fact that he was more than a decade older. And, for fuck sake, did Harry already mention that Snape was his teacher?

_Still, you found his mouth irresistible last night_ , said a tiny voice in Harry’s head. He could not stand it anymore. Not sleepy at all, Harry got up and, having wrapped himself with his invisibility cloak, went to the library.

Now that he finally had any sort of idea about the possible challenges with the triwizard tournament, Harry was able to select a few books that might turn out helpful; he chose those ones that dealt with dangerous plants and magical creatures living underground. Having surrounded himself with piles of books he took from the dustiest bookshelves, Harry sat on the cold, stone ground and set about reading.

Minutes passed in silence broken only by the rustling of the pages turned over and Harry’s breathing. Just like years ago, he was keeping low lumos and the tip of his wand under the cloak. I seemed as if forever passed since then, and Harry was already so many chapters further in the future.

Moving so sneakily and noiselessly that he triggered Harry’s response only when he was a few inches away, Snape managed to scare the shit out of the Gryffindor. He smirked with satisfaction as Potter jumped on the spot and gasped, obviously too absorbed with his reading to be aware of the surroundings.

“Is that… an actual book in your hand?” asked Snape sarcastically. Was it the case that Potter finally learnt to read proper literature and not just Granger’s notes?

Harry didn’t answer anything, focusing all his willpower on holding the gaze. He was too startled to come up with a good riposte.

“Eloquent as usual,” continued Snape, raising left eyebrow. “Tell me, mister Potter, what is a student such as yourself doing in a place such as this at night?”

He was towering over Harry, who was hunching over an open book on his lap. The boy’s eyes were red and tired, not used to reading in the darkness. “As I was told, the library is a place where students are usually supposed to be,” he managed to answer.

“That’s five points from Gryffindor. What are you doing there?”

“I was preparing for the tournament.”

Snape sneered at him scorningly. Potter always loved to be in the centre of attention, and the tournament was just the perfect opportunity for that. His melodramatic dealing with the second task almost made Severus puke.

“And you think that as The Chosen One, you are privileged to wander about the castle after curfew?”

Before he managed to stop himself, Harry spat out the six words that he immediately started deeply regretting after they left his mouth. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes with exasperation. Never in his life did he hate himself more than at this moment. He wanted to disappear from the face of earth completely, forget the Voldemort, forget his N.E.W.T.s, forget the tournament, just disappear and never have to face Snape again.

The words he uttered were “you didn’t mind that last night.”


	3. Another Chapter in His Life

When Harry opened his eyes again, he realized he was wrong in assuming that the professor would be outraged by his atrocious comment. Harry’s allusion seemed to be lost on Snape, whose completely blank expression remained impassive. The teacher merely looked at him with the same ominous, murderous look Harry had learnt to associate with the potions master already during his first year of studies. Wary of the fact that he was dealing with a master of poker face, Harry knew that a lack of immediate outrage did not yet mean anything and refrained himself from drawing conclusions.

“Congratulations, mister Potter. Your audacity just cost you another twenty points,” growled the teacher, only despise visible now on his otherwise completely unreadable face expression. “How about we make it fifty more,” added in a menacing voice laced with disdain.

Harry stared at him mutely. He could barely believe the absurdity of situation – the professor, seemingly oblivious to Harry’s ill-conceived allusion, neither denied getting the message nor shown any signs of being unsettled by the student’s insolent remark. His reaction was nothing more than his usual Snapishness. It seemed almost as if he had not been in the bathroom together with Harry yesterday; as if he was just ignoring the Gryffindor’s delusional babbling tonight.

It was then that Harry started supposing that maybe the map had not been quite right this time, or maybe he was just too tired after all the pressure and responsibility on his shoulders, and he started losing his mind. Fear sat comfortably in the back of his head, spoiling his thoughts with confusion.

Harry didn’t feel quite ready to face the question what it could potentially mean if what he had experienced the previous night were merely a product of his imagination. He almost wished to see the professor furious, if only to make sure he didn’t have sick fantasies about him. On the other hand, would that be better in any way? Whether the feeling of Snape’s mouth around his cock was a product of his imagination or an actual event, it was safe to assume both versions were equally inconvenient.

“Are you really waiting for me to order you to go back to your dormitory?” asked Snape, annoyed by Potter’s lack of reaction.

For fraction of a second, Harry wanted to say that he, indeed, was waiting for orders, to say “make me go to your chambers instead” or “we can do it here, in the library”, just to provoke Snape, just to make sure he was not being delusional. Eventually, he dropped his gaze and stood up, intending to put the books back on their proper place, but Snape’s non-verbal charm was faster and all the books simultaneously flied back to the shelves.

He felt strangely purposeless and naked without the shield of the books surrounding him like a fortress. Suddenly, it occurred to him that he understood Hermione’s obsession with books – maybe, just maybe, knowledge was a coping mechanism for her; maybe all the lines she had read in her life, used in a moment, were for her a proof that she mattered, that she had a reason to stand where she stood and that she was being useful. Never before had Harry seen his friend in this light and never before did he love her more than he did now, finally having an idea what she must be going through deep inside.

It wouldn’t have happened but for Snape. When this thought reached Harry’s consciousness, he immediately considered it ridiculous and mental, but he did register it nonetheless. With all likelihood, the fact that Harry just had his enlightenment was coincidental and Snape didn’t aim at taking Harry on a trip to the intricacies of the psychological patterns of his friends. Yet, Harry had an illogical and absolutely instinctive impression that Snape fully intended to make Harry feel something, although nothing in his stance or the words he spoke indicated it.

When Potter lifted his eyes, Severus saw a mixture of exhaustion, disorientation and determination inside them. It was a strange sight indeed, as if the boy was clinging to some goals he set for himself to achieve and had no idea how to get about them. With a stupidity typical for Potter genes, he identified with the expectations imposed on him but had no self-awareness whatsoever to tell his abilities and limitations apart. To Severus’ mind, Dumbledore had overestimated the boy’s powers and soon they would have to face Potter’s mental breakdown.

“Get it together, for fuck sake,” said Snape in a voice so calm and cold that Harry shivered against his will. Contrary to common sense, he found himself wanting to hear this voice again. He wanted to close his eyes and find himself in the prefects’ bathroom again, bare and wet, exposed and waiting for whatever the professor would choose to do to him, if Snape really had been there yesterday in the first place. Maybe it never really happened.

Harry stood there like a gargoyle for a few minutes after Snape turned away from him and stormed off the library. Eventually, he picked up the cloak that he had tucked under the nearby bookshelf and went back to his bed. His body was tense and sore from hunching over the books on the floor, his mind sleep-deprived and perplexed, his scar just started to hurt. Ignoring all of those sensations, he slipped under the blanket and fell asleep immediately.

***

After a long day filled with Ron’s growing jealousy over Victor Crum, Hermione’s unbearable concern about Harry’s lack of preparation before the final tournament task, his scar pulsing so hard that Harry almost didn’t make it through the classes and lectures without hitting his head on the desk, and ignoring a ridiculously high number of insulting comments shot at him by all Slytherins and some other students, The Boy Who Lived sauntered to the Great Hall for supper. On his way there, he met Cedric holding hands with Cho. Harry felt slightly uneasy at the sight of closeness between them but quickly shook it off and smiled widely. Deep down, he knew he didn’t stand a chance competing against the beauty of Ravenclaw girl, not to mention the fact that he wasn’t even a girl to begin with. He did feel uncomfortable, though, looking at the one person he could remotely imagine himself with, nurturing a relationship with somebody else.

Cedric stopped to wish him success tomorrow and Harry returned the courtesy. After they shook hands and parted their ways in opposite directions, Harry turned back and saw Cedric wrap his arm around Cho’s waist in a very straightforward gesture. To his own surprise, Harry realized he didn’t feel disappointed seeing that; a little bit tense perhaps, or a bit uncomfortable, but not really upset. He would get over Cedric pretty soon, he thought to himself.

***

On the day of the final triwizard task, Severus could tell something was not right. The air was electrified, as if before the approaching storm. The now almost-faded mark on his forearm, pale and blurry for the past years, was darkening steadily but noticeably throughout the day. In the evening, it reached the deep shade of blackness again. Snape did not anticipate the glamorous finale of the tournament; if it wasn’t for Dumbledore, he would have sat in his dungeon the whole day and avoided talking to anybody.

However, Albus had been persistent and now Severus found himself occupying a place in the corner of the stands, wishing the whole thing was over as soon as possible. When Karkaroff sat beside him and asked whom Severus was cheering, the latter looked at him with distaste and answered that he did not willingly occupy himself with such silly activities as cheering. The other wizard nodded with understanding and didn’t disturb Snape for the rest of the event, a stance for which Severus was grateful. It was clear that the potions professor did not willingly occupy himself with small talks either. They looked at each other again only when the hell broke loose and Potter emerged from the labyrinth, carrying what later turned out to be the corpse of Diggory.

Snape’s mind chose this moment exactly to come to a conclusion that Potter was no longer the boy he had rescued after Lily’s death. Standing there over the dead Hufflepuff, Potter looked traumatized, but there was no naivety in his glance, no desperate need to convince himself that something still could be done to save Diggory. Even his posture was different as compared to the one he had upon entering the labyrinth: he seemed taller and more alert. The difference was not vivid, but having mastered attention to details, Snape noticed it nonetheless.

***

Harry was only partially alive the next day. He chose to stay in close proximity to Hermione and Ron even though he didn’t feel like actively participating in any sort of conversation; he just kept them company, raveling in the faint feeling of familiarity and safety he managed to experience in their presence. If it wasn’t for that, he would have probably hidden somewhere out of anybody’s sight until the train came to pick them back from Hogsmeade.

Everything just seemed so… dislocated suddenly, so out of place. He felt dislocated, among thousands of students who had their luggage packed already and now quietly awaited returning back to their families for the summer, yet without the usual excitement about the approaching holiday and without the usual relief after the end of semester. The only family Harry could think of at this moment was Cedric’s parents. Fuck, he wished he could have done something. Where’s that Hermione’s funny time-turner again?

No, bad idea. Too many people witnessed him carrying Cedric’s body; he could not possibly reverse that without disrupting the timeline of events, or whatever piece of magic would have been disturbed if he tried to manipulate the history.

He wondered what plans the Diggory family had had for the summer. Which holiday resort had they planned to visit? Which quidditch matches had Cedric been going to see? Had he arranged spending parts of the summer together with Cho? Harry wished Cedric had been the one who came out of the labyrinth alive – The Golden Boy had less people to miss him afterwards. Sure, Hermione and Ron would have been devastated at first, but they would recover eventually, they were very strong indeed. Surviving one’s child, that must be unspeakably calamitous and Harry didn’t even dare to try to imagine.

Throughout the day, Harry’s state of mind changed in intervals. Some moments consisted of replaying the memories and kicking himself mentally for not being able to prevent the tragedy; others included maniac-like determination to avenge Cedric and to never waste a single moment of his life in the future. If there was anything Harry learnt yesterday, it was the fact that needs to start really appreciating being alive while he still breathes. Can one ever be prepared to face death? With all the plans unfinished, all dreams unaccomplished, all possible times spent with friends and family not experienced – maybe there never is a good moment to accept the inevitable.

The day seemed to have finished earlier as all the students opted to go to bed shortly after sunset, none of them in the mood for a celebration. Harry snuck out of the Gryffindor tower under the cover of his trusty cloak as soon as the sky outside turned black. He followed the route he knew by heart now, this time noticing the small details that had escaped his attention before: the sound of his footsteps on the stone floor, the number of steps on the stairs he took, the way the fire of the torches on the wall danced, moved by draught, and the way the moonlight sipped through the windows and emphasized the contours of the paintings, suits of armour and gargoyles Harry passed by.

The Boy Who Lived opened the prefects’ bathroom door with a quiet alohomora and pushed it gently, feeling the cold wood under the palms of his hands. Never had he supposed that this place would eventually become the space in which he felt most comfortable saying his goodbye to Cedric. Stripping down to his underwear, he let the cold water fill the tub he lay in and cause him shiver. He allowed the suppressed until now emotions shake him, each intensified by the place he wouldn’t have ever find but for Cedric. He cried and shouted under the water and the water muted his screams and soothed his tense body, washing away his grief. The helplessness, the dread, the turmoil; a whole new range of shades of sorrow and fear he never knew; a whole new level of anger he never felt before.

That was Harry’s way of dealing with trauma: instead of numbing it all down with a smuggled bottle of firewhiskey like a proper student would, he preferred to exacerbate his agony to the point of violent release. It kept him going after what otherwise would cause him lose all his senses. Harry Potter was not ready to lose his senses – not yet.

Nevertheless, he felt exactly as if he was losing it the moment when, after having left the bathroom in which he had spent an obscene amount of time bursting with all the anguish he was left with after Cedric’s death, he descended the stairs down into the dungeons and, out of all the possible places to seek trouble in, he chose the door leading to Snape’s office to knock on.

***

When Severus heard the knocking, he regretted a thousandth time he hadn’t left Hogwarts earlier. Tonight, spying on death eaters for Dumbledore seemed like a more productive way of spending time than being disturbed by stupid students and their stupid problems. He wanted to ignore the intruder and he probably would have done so if the knocking wasn’t so loud and fast, as if carrying a message of urgency. When he reluctantly opened the door, the last thing he expected to see there was a piece of mess commonly known as Harry Potter, with his t-shirt sticking to his skin and his hair soaking wet.

“It’s been driving me crazy,” blurted out Harry, not waiting for his bewildered professor to speak first. “Was it you the other night or am I going bananas?”

Potter’s eyes sparkled in such a way that Severus needed to stop himself from answering affirmatively to the latter. He held his breath and looked the student up and down before answering.

“The last thing I want to do is to crush your hopes, Potter, but you are not particularly known for sanity.”

“Yeah, thanks. So were you there or not?”

Snape wanted to deny, he really did. He wanted to just shut the door in Potter’s face and pretend he had no clue what the other was talking about; it worked well the last time in the library, when Potter almost startled him with that scandalous backtalk. He could pull it off again. But time stretched, seconds passed and Severus didn’t answer.

Harry waited. He stared into his teacher’s black eyes with force that he hoped made it clear he was not going to back out until he gets his answers.

It was not any noble truthfulness that made the professor consider giving Potter the honest response – Severus didn’t have noble qualities. It was not the way droplets of water glistened on Potter’s skin or the way his shirt deliciously enveloped his torso that made him halt before answering – Severus had stopped appreciating erotic beauty long ago. Severus blamed a very uncomfortable thought that had occurred to him at the sight of Harry, all covered with bruises and blood, holding the cup with one hand and Cedric’s body with the other. It was a thought that Harry could have not returned alive as well; a thought that soon developed into a realization how scary the scenario was. A thought that was a crack on his otherwise perfectly calculated detachment – for all those years until now, Severus managed to keep himself convinced that he was indifferent to Potter’s well-being.

The teacher almost took a step back, almost opened his mouth to say that he believed yesterday’s events influenced the poor boy’s ability to tell reality from fantasy, almost suggested that Potter should seek Madame Pomfrey’s help. It would be so easy to act according to the strategy Severus had conceived ages ago. Instead, he let the silence prolong, making both of them slightly more tense.

“Look, I know you well, Snape,” started Harry, gathering enough strength to stop drowning in the blackness of the teacher’s eyes. “You’re under no obligation to answer my questions, and I’m never gonna ask again because I doubt I’d ever be able to even fake the confidence to do it the second time, and you can give in to the urge to go back to your lair and be sure this utterly awkward atmosphere I had just created would never repeat. But here’s the one and only time I am enough of a wreck not to care about how mad you’d be at me for invading your comfort zone. So after you tell me all those insults you have at the tip of your tongue now, after you tell me to get lost and shut the door in front of my face, remember that I actually came down here and addressed the subject, and ignoring it would be your choice only.”

“How brave of you,” whispered Severus cynically, ignoring the little voice in his head that insisted he should be frank with the boy for once. Admitting to himself he was not as unconcerned with Potter as he pretended to be was one thing; confessing that he had touched the student in a very intimate way was another. Sometimes, just sometimes, Severus’s perspective on things was so complex that he hardly managed to adopt a definite stance.

“Yes,” he uttered, before his survival instinct prevented him from laying the truth bare. “It happened.”

Harry felt that something shifted inside him. A very pleasant kind of tension emerged just below his stomach and slowly spread across his body. He found himself staring at Snape’s lips and associating in his mind the image he was looking at with the sensation from his memory. _In the end you either live or die, and nothing in between matters_ , he thought to himself as he stepped forward and landed in his teacher’s personal space.

Severus was conflicted between giving in to two opposing urges he felt at the moment – one to withdraw and immediately start telling himself stories about how inappropriate the situation was, how shallow and profane it would have become should he let it develop, how much accountable he would have later considered himself for taking advantage of the younger student; the other to remain still and to let the Gryffindor make another step forward, and eventually to find out how far he was willing to go.

Potter was within arm’s reach. Severus could smell the shower gel the student had used just before he showed up at the teacher’s doorstep; he could see the patches of fog on his glasses and trace the drops of water falling from his hair and sliding down his cheeks. The wild green of Potter’s eyes appeared more intense in the shadows of the dungeons. It all formed an almost exotic combination of scents and colors, like a freshly brewed potion giving off its essence to anybody standing nearby.

Enchanted by the look on Snape’s face, Harry pulled a few inches closer. Suddenly realizing that he hadn’t drawn a single breath until the professor spoke, he inhaled deeply and, remembering how limited the number of one’s breaths are, he took a leap into uncharted territory and let his lips land on Snape’s.

He felt a rush of adrenaline hit his brain and his heart pumping the blood faster. Snape didn’t move; he didn’t even stop piercing Harry with his eyes even after Harry had initiated the kiss. Knowing that he had already gone too far and backing out would inevitably end with disastrous results, Harry decided to trust his guts, parted his lips and tasted Snape’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.

And then, to Harry’s astonishment, he felt Snape reciprocate the kiss. He felt the professor’s hand land on his chest and grip his t-shirt, pulling him forward, and he closed the rest of space separating them, pushing against his teacher’s body. It felt better than he had expected – like an irresistible force driving him closer, keeping him wanting more, sharpening his senses. A twist in his stomach, a wave of pleasure in his mind, tension building in his groin. He opened his mouth wider, wanting to taste more, even devour if he can, running his tongue faster and faster along Snape’s lips.

Arousal clouded Severus’s vision as he felt Potter’s hot, wet tongue track the line of his lips. He pulled the student closer and then into his chamber, shutting the door behind him and pushing the boy against the wall. He invaded Potter’s mouth with his tongue and suppressed a moan as he felt the student’s tongue dance together with his own. Pushing forward with his hips, Severus grinded against Potter and felt a bulge in his student’s jeans.

It was very wrong on so many levels. And yet, it felt like the most right thing to do; like the only thing left to do. Harry gasped and broke the kiss to look into Snape’s eyes again. His right hand, now holding tightly the teacher’s arm, loosened and moved down towards his chest, and then to his stomach, to eventually land at the front of Snape’s trousers.

The desire Severus saw in Potter’s eyes was the strongest he had even seen in his life. It was absolute and demanding, not willing to compromise; as if Potter saw nothing else apart from this present moment – as if nothing else mattered to him. And it was the case indeed, as Harry did not want to lead a life in which the overwhelmingly strong tension between them would not find release. He did not want to be cautious, he did not want to calculate, predict, hesitate and later regret not having done the things he craved to do.

Snape moved his fingertips across Potter’s neck, wondering what sound the Gryffindor would make if he licked it. Allowing Potter’s hand slip between his trousers and shirt, he shivered at the sensation of the student’s fingers on his skin. To say that it was intoxicating would be an understatement; Severus felt every little bit of his body tremble with lust.

They kept looking at each other with hunger for what felt like eternity to both of them, until the need to touch and taste felt too strong to resist it. Snape’s hand slipped below Potter’s wet t-shirt and started exploring his chest, his mouth busy with teasing the Gryffindor’s earlobe. Harry groaned and started unfastening the teacher’s belt, breathing faster and faster.

With his other hand, Severus gripped the student’s erection through the material of his jeans, making Potter moan loudly. He started rubbing it gently, at the same time sucking at Potter’s neck. Giving in to the pleasure, Harry did not even try to act cool; he let the wave of heat possess his body. He pushed his hips forward, desperate to feel Snape’s touch more intensely. There was something primal about the professor’s touch; it was direct and confident, causing every bit of Harry’s body light up with desire that knew no limits.

And Harry reveled in it. He was burning with greed. He couldn’t remember ever feeling more alive than now, shaking in Snape’s arms. He wanted – no, he needed – Severus’s fingers to reach deeper, to dig below his skin and leave marks there. Thirsty for more, he impatiently got rid of his jeans and boxers, allowing Snape access to his throbbing erection.

Severus looked at Potter cravingly and pinned the boy firmly to the wall behind him with his own body. Pushing his thigh between Potter’s, he bit the student’s lower lip. Harry’s half-lidded eyes left no doubt that he enjoyed the teacher’s movements. When Snape’s hand wrapped around the boy’s cock, another moan escaped the latter’s mouth.

Much as Severus hated to admit it, Potter was a delicious sight, squirming under his touch, willing to offer himself whole to the older wizard, so eager to reciprocate each caress. Snape savored every sound the student made – a gasp when he squeezed his fingers around Potter’s stiff member, a whimper of longing when he loosened his grip, and this… perversely fast breathing that Potter seemed to have no control over – Severus was eating up all of the sounds his student produced. He devoured Potter’s exhales as if they were the finest wine brewed from liquid ecstasy.

Stroking the boy’s manhood relentlessly, the teacher was looking at Harry in a lustful and sensual, but also very possessive way. His dark eyes glistened with power that he had over the younger wizard, and Harry realized that he felt something that hadn’t occurred to him for the past four years – the urge to please the professor. Regaining some composure, he twisted out of Snape’s grip and reversed their positions, forcing Severus to lean against the wall as he kept his arms tightly and kissed him passionately.

The scent of Snape’s skin was slowly making him lose his senses; the hot wetness of his mouth was addictive. Snape’s tongue, rough and firm, was ridiculously flexible. Each time it brushed Potter’s palate, the boy couldn’t help letting out a very embarrassing moan. He honestly felt as if the world he had known until now was shattering at the very moment, making room for a new one; a world that was devoid of wasting time, nonsensical conventions, restraints and the pursuit of long-term goals that were pathetically too easy to spoil by unlucky events. In a universe that contained one Voldemort, a number of death eaters and what not, Harry was ready to face a danger he hadn’t even thought of daring to face for his whole life – the danger of getting romantically involved with this potions professor and enjoying every painful moment of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that was a 1,4k-word smut - the longest i have ever written. hope you don't mind the cliffhanger? in my defense, it felt like a definite end of a chapter for Harry ;)  
> oh please, please let me know how you want it to develop in the comments. i actually might consider further course of action depending on the audience's voting.


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